Husbands of Gribballa

As the day star sank down under the horizon and the night sky twinkled with night lights, the adventuring party known as the Heroic Trio sat around the campfire, prepping supplies before bed. With these heroes, was an older woman. Signs of aging showed on her face and neck by the folding of her darkened skin. On top of her thick nest of black curls sat her straw hat, embellished with a variety of dead leaves on the band wrapping round. Each one a different shape and placed with precision by Gribballa herself. Protecting her hands from the cool breeze of the night were a pair of red stained leather gloves, a tight fit but comfortable on days when she worked in the garden.     As she sat close to the fire, she carefully watched the heroes go about their business and decided it was too quiet for her preference deciding it was the perfect time to start a conversation. Her voice was low in pitch, accompanied with a coarse croak as she began to reminisce.     “You know, I haven’t been outside by a burning fire like this since my first husband passed away.” She waited for Hiris, the broadsword wielding conjurer of the group to respond.     “You, had a husband Gribballa?”     “Oh yes dear, many husbands. Three that I can remember. I don’t have much luck in that department it seems.” Letting out an over dramatic sigh at the end of her sentence.     “Wonder why?” B’aldr chipped in. The giant muscle cake of the group. An excellent companion in combat, but lacking in brains in other situations.     “I ask myself that question every day…” The old gardener lady waits for the conversation to continue but the party don’t seem interested. She clears her throat and continues to speak freely.     “It all started with my first husband, Rassandro. Oh, he was lovely. So tall. So handsome. So rich. Not that I knew that when I first met him of course. Yes, we fell madly in love. Love at first sight you might say. Practically perfect in every way, well apart from the allergies of course. Whilst he loved the outdoors, they didn’t seem to feel the same way. Everywhere we went, birds would peck at his head. Bees would swarm around him, he would always come out in a terrible rash.”     “Is that how he died? His allergies?” Hiris interrupted trying to be supportive to the older lady of the group.     “Oh no no. Not at all, he was gobbled up by the ptettells I had growing in the garden…”     The whole group stop what they were doing to stare at Gribballa. Sagen, the stern leader of the party finally broke his silence and joined the conversation.     “Wait, ptettells? As in, ptettell buds. Those giant vine creatures from the Great Forest?”     “Yes, that’s right. How else are you supposed to brew such potent antidotes? I also discovered the petals are excellent in a cup of tea.”     Sagen and Hiris exchange glances with terror in their eyes. Both sharing the same thought, who have they agreed to journey with? Each of them taking a step or two away from the old woman for caution. Whilst B’aldr shuffled closer like a child on a bench. Eagerly waiting for Gribballa to continue the story of her husband’s traumatic death.     “Yes, a real shock to the system I must admit. Simply mortifying. Even with the pay-out I received afterwards I felt as if I would never see the world the same way again. Never able to love once more. That is until I met Is-Ill of course.”     Gribballa looks up to the stars and gives her best interpretation of deeply caring for a loved one.     “A simple man really. A farmer with a lot of land on the South plateau. Nothing like Rassandro, but he did make me smile. His skills in spatial awareness could have done with some work. Looking back, perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to spend the honeymoon on a cliffside cottage. One day he was going for a morning stroll, the next. He slipped! Straight off the edge! Gone. Just like that, another lover gone from my life.”     Hiris sarcastically responds whilst subtly placing one hand on her broadsword. “Yeah, must have been a real shame, left with all that land to sell.”     “Oh I know, so much land. Too much for little old me. All I could possibly do was sell it to lords and ladies of the area.” Gribballa explained with a hint of greed twinkling in her eye.     “A group of heroes such as yourself must know a lot about such manners. Land, purchases, trading. I believe you all would have gotten along with Is-Ill, he loved to discuss all things gold related.”     “You have real bad luck lady. With all these husbands dying and what not. So what happened to the next one? Eaten by sabren? Fell into a volcano?” B’aldr blurted out, enthralled by the tales of the gardener.     “My dear boy, no. Nothing of the sort. At least not that I’m aware of. He simply ran away from me. Gone, in the dead of night. With all my valuables, my gold. My spell book. Nhigel… that’s what that sly toad called himself. Ooo it makes my blood boil just thinking about him. What he did to me! Me! His own wife! I swear when I get my hands on that slimy sleaze bag, I’m going to, to grab him by his shaggy hair and drown him in a pool of his own blood!” The rage of Gribballa was felt in the air and worn on her face. So much anger that even B’aldr scooted away out of fear of feeling her wrath.     After composing herself to maintain her frail old woman persona, Gribballa yawns with arms stretching wide. “Well my dears, that’s quite enough excitement for one evening I think. I’m sure tomorrow is going to be a long trek to Sianwood. See you in the morning.”     And with that, she slaps her thighs and gets up from her seat. Hobbling away from the fire and into her nearby tent without another word. The party that remained around the fire stayed quiet, feeling unsettled by the stories of her husbands. Watching the smoke of the camp swirl into the night sky, clouding the sparkling of starlight.